


Plausible Deniability

by HoshisamaValmor (HannibalCatharsis)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Panic Attacks, Partnership, hints anyway, one big happy dysfuncional family, relunctant friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalCatharsis/pseuds/HoshisamaValmor
Summary: Conversations between Gregory and Jesus.





	1. Good man

**Author's Note:**

> You know that saying that goes 'write what you would like to read'? Right now, I can't think of a better example than this. I couldn't really find a single fic with Gregory and Jesus on ffnet nor anything quite like what I wanted on ao3, so I decided to endulge myself. Do let me know if you perhaps found yourself in the same situation and happen to like these bits to follow.
> 
> Disclaimer: Obviously don't own TWD.

The blood was awful. Gregory felt his stomach turning again, the terrible sound of bones beating and crashing beyond any possible salvation replaying in his mind and shaking him to the very core. He could not,  _could not_  look down at it, even if he knew the people were scrubbing it away, turning the puddle into a stain, a stain Gregory wanted gone and pretend it had never been there. But God, good  _God_ , the boy... such a young boy, and they just...

It was no use. Gregory bent over and only acid came out, splattering over the dirt ground and his shoes, already soiled by the last of his dinner that he had puked earlier. His throat burned and itched in protest, making him gag desperately for air and for relief, his eyes watered and blinded. Someone approached him, the footsteps dragging puffs of dirt from the ground. Still coughing, Gregory groped the air aimlessly in search of the person who had come at his aid, a hand holding his and helping him stand up straight.

"Thank you," he gasped, blinking the tears out of his eyes and fighting the nausea that wanted to make him bend over again. The man rubbed Gregory's back until he could breathe without coughing, and held his shoulder in a way that was unexpectadly helpful and sympathetic. "Thank you. I'm fine, I'm fine."

"None of us are fine," the man corrected, a strain in his voice that made Gregory look up. It was that man with long hair, Gregory had spotted him several times; it was hard not to, looking weird and hippie like he did. They had barely exchanged any words as far as Gregory recalled. The man's expression was gaunt and heavy, and he seemed exhausted beyond his years.

Gregory assumed his own face must be similar, if not ten times worse, because he certainly felt that way. And it only got worse by a tenfold when he saw the blood stains on the man's clothes and forearms. Gregory nearly jolted back and as he looked down and saw his own hand with blood on it, the groggy state he already was in from vomiting twice in such a short amount of time made him spasm out of shock over disgust. The world spinned a bit too fast around him and the man had to catch him and once again help him up, holding the older man firmly, his brow heavier now with added concern.

Gregory forced himself to breathe, to think past the nightmare fuel this night had forced on him, the group that had attacked them and the vomit on his shoes and the blood covering the man and now covering himself too.

"T-Thank you, for what you..." he tried, hoping the man would fill in the rest of his meaning. He remembered the man had been one of the two people who carried the body out of the ground; hence the mess. People who could bare to witness that and still act after... it was beyond him. "I... I don't remember your name... Carlos?"

"Paul."

Gregory nodded, sniffing some air to make him organize his head, regain his composure. He held Car - Paul, the name was Paul - by the shoulder in appreciation. He winced at all the blood, at the bloodprint his hand left on the fabric. "Good man. You... can you help them with..."

Gregory glanced at the people gathered further down. They had not suffered many losses yet, but the infected ones that had had to be put down had all been cremated for good measure. Poor boy had a fate worse than death, but Gregory was silently and surprisingly relieved to see how everyone seemed to accept it as just rule now. He did not want a graveyard growing up inside the walls.

"Of course," the man replied. His face was heavy in concern, as if he wanted to make sure Gregory was fine enough to be left alone, and it immediately made Gregory reconsider.

"But can you first," he called before Paul turned around, "can you help me? I'm... I..."

"I'll get you some water."

Gregory nearly whimpered as he was left standing alone, painfully aware of the way people looked at him horrified and hopeless, looking at him for hope, for the hope he wanted to bring them with the deal. As soon as a cup was placed in his hands, he took a sip at it, fearing his tortured stomach would turn against him.

"Thanks, Pedro."

"You can call me Jesus instead. It should be easier to memorize."

Gregory looked at the other man, confused and stunned by the name choice. Ah, right, the man was called Paul, not Pedro... regardless, what did it matter at a time like this? Eventually, after a moment, he actually realized the logic beyond the nickname, and suddenly the blood-covered hippie image got replaced with the image of Christ the older man knew since he could remember. Suddenly the blood made more sense.

"Jesus. That's certainly someone we'd need right now."

.

to be continued

.

 


	2. Promotion

Paul woke up feeling like a truck had run him over and doubled back for good measure. It was not a new feeling, but one he hadn't experienced quite like this for a while. For a second, it felt as if the world had not changed at all and he had just woken up in some new bedroom on a group home or some random crash place he had found. Slowly, the previous night returned in full detail, making his stomach turn. He pressed the tips of his fingers against his eyelids and breathed in and out. This had to be done. He had to stand up and continue. He couldn't just run away and pretend it didn't happen, and the people outside couldn't either. At least he was glad he didn't have a mirror nearby. He wouldn't really stand to look at himself right now.

The day should feel like it wouldn't pass, like a suspended reality, but instead it just flowed and went by like water slipping right through their fingers, banging on their skulls how little time they had to organize, how little time they had to avoid something like that from happening again and someone else to die like Rory. Paul spoke around with people, trying to see how he could help. The Carson doctors were rummaging through their medic supplies, cold sweat running in their faces. A group was by their small gun storage, a discussion between them as some considered hiding some of the guns, and the others were firmly against it. He found Ken sitting by the stairs of a trailer, looking exhausted and pale. He had not slept, that was clear. His parents were close by, getting their stuff together and trying to select what they should give the Saviors. Paul tried to talk with him a bit. Rory had been just his age, after all. That had to mess up a kid.

Later, he walked up to the Barrington House, going through the communal rooms with a group of people to start to help organizing their supplies too.

"We should list all our goods," Crystal suggested. "It should help us know what we can actually give away and..."

"It's not what we can  _actually_  give away, we have to do it," Wesley replied. "I told the guys outside, we cannot keep guns."

"But we need to defend ourselves!"

"We cannot give them reasons to attack us."

"We should take this to Gregory," Ethan suggested. "He's the leader."

"I've already tried to. He asked for us to organize ourselves, because he does not know what we do have."

Paul shook his head.

"He should do this with us," he countered, but he sighed and let the subject go. "But sure, we'll do it that way. We'll make inventories, as thorough as we can. Then we take it to Gregory and... see what he decides."

It was not as if Gregory hid away. He did stroll through the Barrington House, commenting on something he'd catch and tell someone something, but that was it. Paul sighed, unsure if that posture was the right one, but it was not his place to demand more of the man.

Throughout the day and as the first version of the inventory was noted down, a dreadful fear started to claw at Paul's mind. He didn't want to bring it up with the others, but he considered if he should mention it to Gregory. By the time they had something worth presenting, it was late night, and Crystal wondered if Gregory would still be up. They knocked on the man's office, hearing a reply soon after.

"Jesus," he greeted. At least he did remember the nickname. The same didn't seem to be the case for Ethan and the others, as the older man merely nodded at them. "You guys seem tired. We all need some sleep. Can I help you?"

"We've made an inventory," Paul started, showing him the pages. "We wanted you to decide..."

"What is there to decide?"

The conversation didn't go exactly bad. The subject was just that grim. They had to follow the rule to the letter. Half of everything they had. That meant guns, canned goods, the first of the crops they had stored, clothes,  _"even bloody books and tableware if need be"_ , Gregory had finished.

When everyone was ready to leave, Paul still had that nagging fear he couldn't shake away.

"Gregory, if I could..." he tried. The man cut him off immediately as the other people left the office and only Paul stayed behind.

"I know you don't like it, but I also know you see. We have no other option here. I don't like it either, but that's how it has to be."

"I know. It's just..." he sighed, feeling defeated and even more tired than he was waking up. "Everyone's scared."

"Of course they are.  _I'm_  scared." The man straightened his back on his chair, looking uncomfortable at the outburst. "I know I shouldn't say this, because I'm the leader, but I am. But I will get us through this. So we all just need to do as they say."

"I'm scared they may take people."

Gregory brushed off the subject, even if the statement seemed to sink in afterwards and drops of sweat started gathering on his forehead.

"No," he stated, lacing his voice with firmness to make the word become true. "That's not the deal."

"What if they demand it?"

"Why would you even think that?" the man shook his head, looking down at the list instead to see the actual goods he wanted to give away. "You, just bring me one of those bottles over there. I need a drink."

Paul frowned but did as he was told. He frowned a bit more when he saw the row of bottles tucked inside a box that Gregory had clearly intended to hide from Saviors' view should they come in here. He hoped the man knew the deal applied to everyone in Hilltop, including himself.

"Pour me a glass, will you?"

Paul raised his gaze to Gregory as the older man kept looking looked down at the list, the image of the perfect politician he probably had hoped to be before all this. Paul was reading a bit too well into this and he was not really liking it, but he didn't want to go with the alternative of confrontation either. He was not really in the mood to be a servant.

"I was never one for drinking," he said instead, lowering the bottle on the desk.

"Really?" Gregory took a moment to look up at Paul, raising his eyebrows. He seemed ready to point out that he had not offered him a drink, but instead he went for: "You seem like someone who would."

Paul decided to pretend he did not get the implied meaning behind Gregory's words. He was far too tired to deal with this right now too.

"I was quite rebelious in my younger years, I tell you. All the hippie experimental phase, I went through it. We're a lot alike, you and me," Gregory said, a condescending smile on his face. "I never had such good hair though. It's good to have a figure of authority at this time in our lives. I know."

"I don't really think you know at all," Paul said. He reconsidered his words, weighting and deciding the best approach to deal with this type of people. He had had quite a few of them already, but this was a delicate situation. "Can I help you with anything else except fetching bottles?"

Eventually, he took the cue from Paul's expression and cleared his throat.

"Well it was worth the shot," he said as if in a light hearted apology. "I prefer you as my right hand man over my cupbearer, anyway."

Paul did not remember ever asking for a promotion. But he did have the distinct feeling it was smoke and mirrors anyway.

.

to be continued

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is effectively much longer than I anticipated. And I had a rough night so I hurried to write this down and just post it rather than wait for the schedule I just mentioned on chapter 1.
> 
> I was definitely influenced by the interesting headcanons by hummingrightalong and itslifethatscaresmetodeath for Jesus having a troubled background, but I prefered to leave it as hint and open to your interpretation. And overall, I picture Gregory as being someone who easily labels people quickly by appearances and stereotypes.


	3. A sense of humor

"You want to go outside?"

"We need to scavange," Jesus explained, moving his hands as he spoke. "We barely have anything left, let alone enough to give the Saviors. I'm not asking for anyone to come with me and risk themselves. We already lost people, we already lost one doctor. I know people want to help, but I'd prefer to go out myself first, test the waters, see what is doable and what isn't."

"And you want to go through that risk?"

"I just want people here to be safe. I don't want to see anyone else dying or taken just because some guys think they own us."

"They do," Gregory pointed out. "We obey the Saviors, Jesus."

The other man sighed loudly. "The Saviors told you we need to scavange. I  _want_  to do that."

"Aren't teams getting ready to-"

"I want to do this alone, before they do," Jesus interrupted him. Gregory straightened his posture, a physical reminder of who was actually in the place to make decisions. It worked. Jesus receded somewhat, sighing again, but this time more controlled. "Gregory, I've been outside more times than anyone else. You know that already."

"A fact which is beyond me, now that you mention it. Unnarmed and-"

"It doesn't have to hinder you beyond the fact that it's actually an advantage. I can get my bearings. I'm just asking to go before teams are set out."

"What makes you think you're not valuable? Or that you are important enough for all of us to hold until you return, for that matter?"

"It's not about that. It's about survival. And I'm hoping to find other survivors. We could form alliances, have-"

"Absolutely no way," Gregory cut off immediately before he could elaborate further. So _that_  was what the tiny man wanted to do, possibly had been trying to do in those aforementioned getaways. "It's too dangerous to bring in people here we don't know. They can be savages or infected, we cannot risk it."

"People is what we need the most," Jesus corrected, leaning closer on the desk. "The more people we get, the more we can work our crops and expand. We need people to grow enough for ourselves and for the Saviors."

"That's more mouths to feed," Gregory countered. "Need I remind you our supplies are already low as they are?"

"Of course not. But there's only so much we can do by ourselves. We need more people with us, we need to grow. Surely there's other places like the Hilltop, other safe zones. Maybe we can start to form some sort of trade with them."

"If there even are other safe zones," Gregory pointed out, his finger keenly raised.

"I'm not saying I will find people," he added. "There may be no one nearby. But by being alone, I can move faster. I don't know how far I'll have to go in search of supplies for us, I don't know if I'll run into people, but if I do, it'd be a valuable thing for the Hilltop, Gregory."

Gregory waved his head, a moment of pause to let himself enhance his next words. "People are savages, Jesus. We've seen what these Saviors do. It's human nature to be bad, and this world has not made any of us kinder. If you see people, you should get _away_  from them, not try to bring them to our doors!"

"I'm not saying I will bring them immediately, either. I'm not stupid," he added just as Gregory opened his mouth to put an end to the subject. "And if I do find dangerous people that could be a threat, I can also deal with that. It's a win-win situation any way you see it."

"Someone like you, you'd only get yourself in trouble."

"I can defend myself," Jesus replied, a small reassuring smile on his lips. Gregory scoffed and twisted his mouth into a friendly smirk, the type of smirk he'd throw at his former business partners when they'd boast about something that was clearly an utter lie.

"Sorry, but you don't exactly look like the type of guy that can."

"That's part of the charm. Why do you think I look as good as I do?"

Gregory raised his eyebrow a bit higher than usual. Jesus's reassuring smile had too much of a hint of cunning for Gregory's taste. So the man had a funny odd sense of humor. Gregory did not tend to really like it on others.

"Okay. If you say so."

.

to be continued

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus isn't really gloating there (even though he does look good as hell) but he's purposefully messing with Gregory.
> 
> btw, these are supposed to be in like chronological order, so this is a couple of weeks after the previous chapter.
> 
> I'll just keep writing and ignore the deadlines I said.


	4. Responsibility

As soon as Paul crossed the gate and saw Gregory outside the Barrington House, he knew he was to expect trouble. He had enough time to greet a few people, see the look of relief in their faces that caught him off guard (he had taken a bit longer than usual, he knew. But still, he hadn't intended for them to get worried) and get a quick heads-up from one of them before his name was bellowed.

"Jesus! Come here!"

Paul exchanged looks with the nearby group of people. Crystal opened her mouth to try to explain, but she could barely get across Rachel having passed away, something about guns and bullets before another loud shout was heard.

Ready to put aside the flash of irritation and understand that something serious had happened, Paul approached Gregory. He seemed to have been lecturing Bertie and Andy, and as soon as Paul was close enough, he turned and began pouring a row of accusations that had clearly been bottling up.

"Now just look who made us all the favor of showing up! We should all bow and thank you for the priviledge of having your time, should we, Jesus?"

"What happened?" Paul tried, but Gregory cut off Bertie as she attempted to speak.

"What happened is that you weren't here! You've been gone for a week!  _One week_ , Jesus, and I don't see any supplies with you! Or do you have a truckfull of food hidden beneath that coat of yours?"

"I-"

"In that time, the good people here had to work as twice as hard for all of us to survive, to produce enough, and to survive our  _own_. No hands are enough, and we've just lost two of those."

"Gregory," Andy intervened. "Jesus had nothing to do with this."

"What happened with Rachel?" he asked.

"She passed away in her sleep. Doctor Carson said it was likely a heart attack," Andy answered before Gregory. A terrible sense of dread caught the pit of Paul's stomach at the prospect of people having been attacked because the poor old lady passed away somewhat peacefully. In the current state of the world, that had just become something unexpected and almost dreamy, but of course, it had to be turned into a nightmare. "No one was bit, thank God, but it was still a panic when she turned. Crystal had to put her down."

Their ammo was running extremely low, and the few handguns they had been left with were already a danger to have as they were. The look on Andy's face told him that Crystal's aim hadn't been the best, and Paul didn't blame her; late at night, seeing someone they had known for a short amount of months as it might have been, turning into a walker and inevitably risking an entire outbreak in the safety of their walls. Paul turned his eyes to Gregory, whose wrath didn't seem to be appeased in the slightest. It was hard to tell if the man was blaming him for the death, for the loss of working hands, for the loss of ammo, for the existence of guns in the Hilltop, for his absense in the community when the incident happened, or for the whole thing altogether.

"We all have our jobs, and Jesus has his," Bertie said. The woman seemed to have a guess at what was going through Gregory's mind too, or maybe he had already blurped out the whole panoply of accusations. "He's not supposed to be farming with us if you told him to go out scavanging."

The older man didn't care to listen and instead he turned to Paul, his face close to red.

"Everyone has jobs, and yet he hasn't been doing anything. So he is not contributing anything for our community."

"I didn't take this long because I wanted to," Paul started again. "I got caught up by a herd. I went further than I had planned, and I found people."

All three of them reacted, no one more than Gregory.

"We've spoken about-!"

"There's a camp of people nearby?" Bertie asked, a mix of hope and fear in her voice.

"It's not a camp," Paul replied, turning from her to Gregory. "I tracked them back and I found another safe zone."

Gregory pressed his lips tight, moving his arms restlessly, trying to decide if he should put them his waist or readjust his coat.

"You come to my office right now," he ordered, starting to dart up the stairs.

"You really found another safe zone?" Bertie gasped in disbelief, her eyes flying between Paul and Andy.

Paul nodded. "Let me just talk to him and-"

"Jesus!"

Paul had never wanted to tell the man to fuck off more than he did right now, but instead he forced himself to brethe, rubbing his face and the bridge of his nose to try to clear his mind. He pulled the beanie off his head and then followed after Gregory like a good boy, a little lap dog that Gregory had clearly begun to see him too much as. The man was storming back and forth on his office when Paul caught up with him and closed the door.

"So instead of trying to get us food, you insisted on your idea of getting us into more trouble!"

"That's not what happened."

"And while you were on it, _this_  happened to us! Someone turned inside our walls, inside the  _Barrington House_! That old hag should never have been let to be in here, she was working outside in the crops anyway! If the Saviors had killed her instead, it would have been for the best."

"You did not just say that."

Gregory grit his teeth. "You should have been here, Jesus. You took this long and you didn't bring anything back, so it was all for nothing!"

"I didn't come back empty handed because I wanted to!"

"Yes, and yet here we are, and this is on  _you_."

Paul halted and flinched back.

"Are you serious?"

The other man bloated in offence.

"What? You don't think this is on you? You have a responsability problem, Jesus. You and I both know you like to throw away burdens off your shoulders. You prefer to crash here at your desire and just run away when it gets too much. The folk outside may not remember, but I have a stellar memory. You've done this more often than not. You're more often out there than you are here, and that is escaping your responsabilities."

 _'How is that escaping responsabilities?'_  he wanted to ask, but he found the words dying in his throat before he even tried the effort of expressing them. Nevermind that he had been able to find several vehicles and medication, brought back clothes and canned food, books and toys for the children all those previous times. It was never quite enough, and it would never be. And he _did_  prefer to be outside. It wasn't that the people of Hilltop had done anything but been nice to him (most of them, anyway), but he had not been able to overcome the ghosts that came from before the world changed. He didn't want to be cramped up inside a bunch of walls and deal with the everyday business of everyone everyday, without being able to do much to effectively make things better for them. The best balancing act he had found was to be outside as often as he could, while actively doing something for the benefit of everyone. It didn't seem like such a harmful thing at all.

Blaming him for Rachel's death, or the panic it caused, or the loss of bullets it brought, was just downright unfair, but it was no use trying to discuss with Gregory there. He'd find a way to twist it around anyway.

"I found another community," he said instead, expecting the immediately reaction to be more accusations, and he wasn't wrong.

"And then there's that! You expressively went against my words and-"

"I didn't engage anyone, I just watched them, tried to learn from them."

"Do not interrupt me again, Jesus."

"How is that wrong?" he pressed. "We have the possiblity to have allies! Their community is big, as big as Hilltop's, if not bigger. It's one day's ride from here. They have fields. We can-"

"You are more concerned with the wellbeing of others than our own," Gregory cut him off decidedly. "If you want to go, then I'm not stopping you."

Once again, he felt the same pang of guilt, of powerlessness. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying we need good, reliable and responsible people here. You're not any of the former."

Paul opened his mouth to try to say something, but once again decided against it. It was no use. Gregory felt empowered by that, so be it.

"I'll be at my trailer."

"You go now. I have business to attend to, people that actually depend on  _me_  to be safe, and I cannot let them down too like you do."

Paul shook his head, giving up. He turned around and left the office, exiting the Barrington House and walking quickly to his trailer. He effectively ignored the looks of people, specially Bertie, hitting the door on his way in.

.

to be continued

.


	5. Asset versus complication

Gregory stared down from his bedroom window to the Hilltop's courtyard. Even this early in the morning, people were already starting with their tasks. The faint clanging coming from the blacksmith shop mixed with some louder chickens clucking, with dirt revolving under a hoe and people's distant rumbling voices. Those were sounds he had grown used to, sounds of progress, of achievement, of peace.

He thought back at Jesus's new information about the nearby safe zone, something that had piqued his brain and barely let him sleep all night. One day's worth a distance. The presistency he had been applying into making Gregory support the idea of engaging other communities would not diminish. Gregory understood the reason behind it, and he could see how it was perfectly valid; establishing a network of support and exchanges between several groups of people, with Hilltop at its head. It sounded anything but harmful. In concept, at least. Realistically, it meant dealing with people who might make more demands, attack them, steal what they tried so hard to gain and maintain. Because survivors are dangerous, and the only people left in the world are survivors. And the Hilltop, with a handful of people who could fight and hold guns straight, had no line of defence.

Gregory was in favor of maintaining peace, not stirr it up. And Jesus might be, too, but he was too bold.

However, as much as it still irked Gregory sometimes, the truth was that the younger man was clearly intelligent and sensible. Jesus hadn't been wrong before with his concerns regarding the Saviors, back when he first brought up the possiblity of them including Hilltop people in their 'half of everything' demands. He hadn't been lying when he said he could defend himself, either; it was clear he knew how to get by, considering he'd go out the walls alone and with little more than a handful of knifes, but who'd thought someone as short and as hippie-looking as him actually knew anything about fighting? Gregory hadn't been able to hide his surprise when he caught Jesus teaching one of the men, one that _did look like_  someone who could put up a fight, a bunch of tricks and send the man flying to the ground. There was a touch of cunning victory in the way Jesus looked at Gregory's surprised face.

Yes,  _that_. Because, for all the qualities he might have, there were also the faults. And Jesus had a whole bunch of them.

Nevermind the fact that Gregory had effectively ignored (or so he liked to believe he had) the preconceptions he had on the smaller man. What was undeniable was that the man knew how to enchant an audience with smooth talking and play people to his tune. Gregory was no fool, of course; he could tell  _exactly_  when Jesus tried to do it to him and didn't let himself be deceived. Whether it came from his past as a junkie or drunkard or just general troublemonger (because he just had to be, looking like that, acting like that and dressing the way he did, right? Who knows in what other kind of debauchery he used to be involved in... But Gregory was ignoring all that and focusing on the now, not the before), the fact was Jesus had a number of persuasion tactics under his belt. Adding that to his pathological aversion of real involvement with people and bearing real responsabilities, it just painted a perfect picture for Gregory on what the man used to be before the world changed.

Gregory knew people. And so he also knew when _his_  own tactics didn't work as well as they should on Jesus.

He had weightened more than once the pros and cons of their dynamic, how simpler or more complicated his life would become if Jesus didn't return through those gates one day. After all, it would just be so much easier than "getting rid of him", a very concept that felt wrong even to Gregory. Not to mention it was just too troublesome. If he simply didn't return one day, a 'problem' would be simply solved on its own. But how much of it was really a problem?

He could see how Jesus wasn't as fooled by some of his words as most people were. He chose not to confront Gregory though, so that created a good enough balance for the older man to be satisfied. He knew how to fight, how to protect people. His absence was a liability for the community, as it had been proved with the old hag dying and nearly threatening an outbreak. And he was likeable, after all; the people liked him.

Jesus wasn't a real threat, but those times when he'd fail to mask his displeasure for Gregory's decisions, or the small little cunning and mischievous flashes in his face, would cause fits of frustration in Gregory that ignited those wishful thoughts of _'what if he'd just have some accident outside?_ '.

It always came down to the same conclusion: overall, Gregory benefitted thoroughly more with Jesus's presence than his absence. It might annoy him that someone like Jesus could, in this world, be an important asset, but it was just how it was.

So, it was up to Gregory to make the most of it.

Let him use those tactics on the new safe zone. Like the man himself had once said, it was a win-win scenario no matter how Gregory looked at it. If it all went well, the benefits would be for Gregory. If it went bad, Jesus would be the one to take the hit. And, as the man himself had also once said, he could defend himself.

So be it.

"I've decided. You will go that safe zone and talk with them," Gregory told him later that day. "Send our good word and our desire for peace. We are all on the living side, after all. We're all allies."

Jesus nodded, smiling in relief. "I think it's a great decision."

"But don't tell them much before they actually show their game," Gregory added, putting his hands on his hips and putting up a straight face. "We need people who can actually contribute. Not parasites or beggars or worse, priggish. We need to create a strong impression that we are not to be messed with. _They_ will help  _us_ , not the other way around."

"Of course," Jesus said, sighing not to covertly.

Nevertheless, Gregory smiled widely and straightened his posture even more. He was the leader. And he was great at it.

.

to be continued

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write Gregory having these stereotypical misconceptions about Jesus and wanting to pretend it doesn't bother him at all, and I think it's a lie. I think he's the type of person who always has that little 'something' against Jesus or anyone that doesn't look quite like what he labeled 'normal' before the apocalypse. He lives mostly sheltered in the Hilltop, so he still sees the world a bit like it used to be, not like what it is now, and therefore he still has these prejudices against stuff.
> 
> Big shoutout to randomcat23 on ffnet for the lovely reviews!


	6. Connection

The Kingdom's overall welcoming reception, their joy and interest in establishing contact with another safe zone, and Ezekiel's (... _King_  Ezekiel) motivational speech boosted Paul's mood by a tenfold, even if he suspected (and was right to assume) Gregory wouldn't want to meet or leave the safety of the Hilltop.

 _"Leaders don't leave their safe zones, Jesus. We're needed here. That's why we have people - important people - like you,"_  the older man would tell him up front as soon as Paul would even try to mention the possibility.

Knowing this beforehand, he had explained to King Ezekiel everything he felt he should regarding the Hilltop. No mention of the Saviors; not yet. The prospect of a line of trade between the two communities was one of the few things in recent memory to bring him this much joy and relief. They quickly arranged for Paul to be escourted back to the Hilltop with two Kingdom people, as a means to build trust and confirm his story. He was happy to do so, offering them a couple of days' stay in the Hilltop and to return back with them with goods so they could further elaborate future exchange plans.

His stay in the Kingdom was short, but adding it to the time he spent riding with the two escorts, he was able to start gathering quite a bit of knowledge about the community. Yes, literal  _riding._ They had vehicles, and kept Jesus's car as a mix of safeguard/insurance, but seemed to prefer horses for some reason; it did fit more with their overall theme. They even wore armour pieces that Paul momentarely mused and guessed he'd hardly get used to, if he were to wear them. His vest and longcoat were too trademark.

One of Paul's old boyfriends from way back when used to take horsemanship classes and had taught him a thing of two about riding, but he was far from being truly confident in it. The two Kingdom escourts were quick to help and reassure him though, and truth be told, Paul managed quite well. The ride back was slightly longer and they set up a camp for the night. They only had a quick encounter with a handful of walkers, and it became clear to everyone that they were all skilled fighters, specially Paul. The youngest of the two escourts was particularly impressed, and Paul mirrored his smile more than twice when they exchanged looks through the rest of the way.

All the while, he kept listing all the positive details of the Kingdom in order to build arguments to convince Gregory, should the man start making some obstacles for whichever reason. Starting with their leader. Ezekiel seemed to be an unique man, but a good and trusting one. Paul was no one to judge how people lived and the things they did to survive; the Kingdom might sound and appear to be too outrageous to be real, but it was clearly a functional safe place, with an extensive community riddled with all sorts of beneficial things for its residents. And their leader might be clearly portraying a role, but he did it splendendly and for a purpose, and no one seemed to mind it. So Paul certainly wasn't going to be the one to point the finger.

And that tiger was amazing. As far as Paul was concerned, Ezekiel really  _was_  royalty. He had earned every tale and title if not by everything else, by the simple fact the man had a  _tiger_  as a pet.

Of course, the whole thing was a bit over-the-top to anyone, and Gregory was particularly susceptible to all things non-normal by his standards.

The conversation was long, and extended well past the moment the two Kingdom escorts were invited to visit the Hilltop by some of the residents, while Gregory was slightly rude by staying behind and talking with Paul instead.

"And where will our esteemed guests sleep?" he asked eventually, after Paul's previous concern with arguments paid off and the man finally seemed convinced. The man twisted his face at the obvious answer to his own question; the Barrington House still had rooms to spare, and would be the logical place of choice. "You're gonna spend the night here, then. I don't want our people endangered. We don't know anything about these two men."

"Sergio will sleep here, and I'm sure there's more than enough people who can act up as guards if you want them to. I personally see no need. These men are trustworthy. Chris will stay in my trailer."

"Why would he stay in your trailer?"

"Because I like my privacy, Gregory."

Gregory made that face that was more caricatured than any man acting up as a king and having a pet tiger. Paul couldn't help but smile a bit at how comical and familiar Gregory's confusion was. He assumed he already had quite an extensive record of real and imagined traits in Gregory's personal book, so let him add that one to the list too. It did seem to be taking a while to be fully registered though, for some reason.

"Oh," he said. "Your trailer isn't the most comfortable of places, surely..."

"It actually kinda is."

"It's just awkward to... with so much free space. Why'd you two be in your trailer... People may think... you know." Gregory said, leaving the rest unspoken. Slowly, the realization seemed to be starting to fully dawn at the other man, but much like it had happened before in other instances, it was just downright funny to Paul. Gregory seemed remarkably childish in such moments. "You know how people are, Jesus. I-It's... complicated when..."

"Thanks for the concern," he interrupted. "But I'm good."

He really was feeling much happier and hopeful. This really was a brave new world, and was finally turning for the better.

And he did end up having a great night too.

.

to be continued

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist adding some mention to Jesus's sexuality and Gregory's tint of veiled homophobia. I swear I'm trying to make these chapters between 700-800 words like I intended, but they just keep adding up.
> 
> Big thanks to Sassy Lil Scorpio on ffnet :)


	7. Covered in blood

The day Jesus snapped at him was remarkably bright, a clear blue sky and a thoroughly pleasant day.

Gregory had just personally accounted for the amount of crops they had been able to produce and store, how well balanced the exchanges with the Kingdom and the agreement with the Saviors had become. He had walked around talking with everyone, short exchanges that renewed his sense of accomplishment and pride as the righteous leader of this great community, the community he had built. He was returning to the Barrington House, looking forward to a snack and some time reading when, after barely crossing the doors, Kal called after him.

"Gregory. Jesus's back."

"Oh, good," he replied. He had some catching up to do after the couple of days the small man had been out. "Tell him to come to my office."

"He's covered in blood."

Gregory halted, eyebrow raised. Well, then he certainly did not want him anywhere near his office. He doubled back and returned to the Barrington House's doors, and Kal hadn't lied. If anything, he had made an understatement.

Against the background of such a sunny, pleasant afternoon, the blood became completely offensive and abhorrent. The only other time Gregory had seen - or wished to see - this much blood had been when the Saviors first showed up, and it had been night time then. He still remembered it quite vividly though, how his hands had got filthy by the blood Jesus had on his, how the other man had smudges over his clothes and forearms from picking up and carrying the dead body. Gregory had fought those memories back so they could fade into an almost-nightmare the event had effectively been. Now, however, it was broad daylight, and the blood seemed completely fresh to his eyes, not knowing how to distinguish the one coming from the living and from the dead, or how much of it was Jesus's. Just that it was too much, and that it was terrifying.

His immediate reaction was to flinch back, but he ended up climbing down the steps and approach as a small group of people gathered as well.

"Sweet Mother of Jesus- God, or-" Gregory groaned and made a grimace. He gave up trying to swear; that blasted nickname made these sorts of things more complicated. "What happened?"

Jesus ignored the echo the question had on someone else's lips and just kept walking to his trailer, pulling the beanie off his head, smudging blood everywhere and making Gregory squirm harder at even imagining getting so dirty, but truth be told, it wasn't as if he was making much more of a mess.

"Jesus!" he called. "What-"

"Not now, Gregory," he shot back. He seemed about to carry on and just leave it there, or maybe Gregory had just grown used to expect it, but this time Jesus did continue: "I'm sorry I didn't have time to shower and look presentable before coming to you. It's not really easy, you know, to have time to do everything."

Gregory flinched at the aggressiveness, taken aback and looking at the people next to him, searching for support in their equally surprised expressions.

"Jesus, you're upset, I can see that," Gregory began, knowing it was his duty before the people. And he  _was_  clearly upset, so the best thing to do was to calm him down. "Just tell us, you've got us all worried. What the hell-"

"I won't get near you or your precious office, so you don't need to get worried," Jesus said instead, halting suddenly and turning back to Gregory. The older man cowered back at the look on his face. "Maybe some time outside would make you realize how things really are, how things are not so fucking superficial as you think they are and that people actually die while you sit back and hope for the best."

Gregory gaped, clearing his throat. He had realized before how some of his tactics didn't really work on Jesus, like his story of surviving walkers on his first way to the Hilltop. Nor other things he had said, possibly. But it wasn't as if he was about to have anything bad said outloud just because the midget man was angry about something.

"You need to calm down," he said. "We'll talk later-"

Jesus had already turned around and hopped into his trailer, banging the door behind him. A trail of red was left on the doorknob.

"He didn't mean to say that," someone said beside him. Gregory turned to see the black woman, Berenice, waving her head. "Something serious happened. Are there any of our people outside?"

"How do you want me to know?" Gregory replied, immediately realizing his mistake and clarifying: "We're all free people here. I mean, the usual group went to deliver our share to the Saviors, didn't they?"

Gregory looked around to try to confirm if he saw any of the faces he recalled. He did spot the big man with the beard and his brother. One of them was called Ethan, for sure.

"Well, they're back. So it's alright."

"It's clearly not," the woman insisted, but Gregory interrupted her and declared she knew where to find him when they had calmed Jesus down or understood what had happened.

He returned decidedly to where he originally intended to go, passing by Kal and waving his head at the perfectly nice afternoon spoiled by this little incident. He didn't meet much of a reply, but he didn't really expected to. Kal wasn't the brightest of people here.

It probably took about half an hour, although to Gregory it felt like only a handful of minutes, before a knock on his office door made him turn and straightened his pose. It wasn't Jesus, but the woman and one of the food exchanger brothers.

"Gregory. I think you should go talk with him."

"Me?" Gregory repeated. "I try my best here, but I cannot go on babysitting mode whenever Jesus has a fit."

The woman frowned. "Jesus doesn't have fits. He's covered in blood, and it isn't his. And most of that blood didn't look like walker's blood. He doesn't react like this out of nowhere. Something happened."

Oh good, patronizing. Gregory groaned loudly. "Well I tried to ask him, didn't I? All I got was a kick in the nuts and some swearing thrown around for good measure."

Bianca, or Berenice or B-something, didn't hide her distaste. "Please, that's not going to help."

"Why don't you go, then? He ignored you as much as he ignored me, otherwise you wouldn't be here. If I won't help, then I won't bother. I say leave him be until he lets off the steam and then he'll come by to apologize."

"Man, seriously," the big guy said, meeting Gregory's displeasured face. "It should be you."

Gregory shrugged, scowling. "Why?"

"I think it's pretty obvious why," the man said, leaving it at that.

Gregory didn't really see - or want to see - why he was the obvious choice to go talk with Jesus. If it was clear the man didn't want anyone nearby, then everyone should just leave him be, or go there by themselves. Little cowards. They had all just seen that Jesus was having a fit and didn't want to put up with it. So someone had to do it, and they wanted him to do it.

He was the leader. Sometimes it sucked.

He made sure he was seen by everyone so they could stop with their gossiping. It was starting to get darker already, and it irked Gregory that the day had come down to this, but here they were. Gregory readjusted his coat and cleared his voice, rubbing the bottle of scotch he thought to bring with him; he had decided he was going to face this as a complicated business meeting with a particularly bitchy client, and some nice scotch always worked its magic in those. And considering how Jesus was surely more than used to a shot of scotch, or ten, it might help him unwind. He then knocked, avoiding to look at the smudge he sincerely hoped Jesus would clean up when he'd calm down. He heard no reaction from inside. He turned his face, seeing some of the people's attention glued to him, the black woman (whatever her name was) eyeing him from columns of the Barrington House. He nodded at them by reflex, the corners of his smile twisting a bit when he cleared his throat again and knocked a second time.

"Paul," he called, changing to the man's real name to show how serious he was, how considerate he was enough to remember it after all this time. "I just want to talk. A-Are you alright? Did something happen? I mean, what  _did_  happen?"

He gave the man a minute. He was almost hitting the mark and letting himself off the hook when he heard a ruffled faint movement inside. He cursed his luck for a moment before putting on his game face and preparing to remind Jesus they had a hierarchy and that Gregory was the one whose words should be heard and respected, so if he said for the man to feel alright, it was his cue to starting working to that.

Gregory had forgotten that Jesus being stewing in his trailer meant that he had not washed any of the blood away. As soon as he opened the door, Gregory almost held back bile and grit his teeth, finding it suddenly hard to swallow.

"Jesus," he managed, not minding if it was a swear or the nickname. "May... may I come in?"

Jesus turned his eyes to the same people Gregory had smiled before, the look on his face anything but relieved or touched by Gregory's thoughtful gesture. Gregory showed him the bottle.

"I think you need this," he said light heartedly, before clearing his voice again. "People are worried. You never act like this. I just want to know what happened. May I come in?"

Jesus didn't say anything as he moved aside. Gregory smiled nervously and stepped inside, quickly surveying the trailer he had never stepped in before; it was surprisingly neat and clean, small and completely impersonal save for a pile of books and a bunch of clothes folded on a corner. He found the longcoat on the floor and was careful to circle around it while Jesus walked and stood by the bed.

"You shouldn't have done that, it'll smudge the whole thin-"

"What do you want, Gregory?" Gregory couldn't stop himself from speaking, but Jesus stopped him immediately after.

Gregory breathed sharply through his nose, straightening his pose once again.

"I want you to be alright, Jesus." This time he didn't let himself get interrupted or cut in. "These people, _our_  people, need you. We cannot have moments of weakness. Not like this."

Jesus had his arms crossed in front of him, holding the sides of his body and protecting himself, looking down at Gregory's feet. The older man noted trails of tears amongst the sprays of blood on his face. Jesus had removed his gloves, and the dried blood hadn't quite smudged his hands as much, even if his shirt was still sickly red. Gregory quickly searched and found a single cup. So be it. Jesus needed it more than he did anyway. He picked it up and served him, making it double.

"You need this right now. Drink."

The other man eyed Gregory for a moment before whatever inner battle he had was lost, picking the cup and throwing the scotch down his throat. He didn't exactly flinch much at the taste; Gregory was slightly and inappropriately impressed.

"Care to sit down and talk now?" he asked, ready to pour a second and last round; he didn't want Jesus pouring down the whole thing. "Let's cut to the chase. Our people are all accounted for. So did you get a scare? Did the dead nearly bite you?" Oh God, had  _he_  been bit?

"The world isn't as simple as you think it is," Jesus replied instead, somewhat resting the horrible thought that had crossed Gregory's mind.

"So either you killed someone, or someone die-"

"I killed them," Jesus cut in. His body bunked from under him and he sunk in the bed, pressing his fingers to his eyelids. "I couldn't save them, so I killed them. They died because of me."

"Nonsense," Gregory said immediately, even without knowing any other details. He guessed the man had tried to bring someone to the Hilltop, some two or three survivors, who met a dreadful end to those nasty things. "It's not your fault dead people are walking and eating the living. That's just how the world is now."

"You have no idea what the world is like now, Gregory," the man said, the accusation clear as he looked up to meet Gregory's eyes. The older man had to flinch back somewhat.

"I get that this was huge for you. Important, I know," he added, feeling the change in the way the man was looking at him, his eyes red and glossy. "But you're here. You're alive. You have to move on from there. You have to overcome it and continue doing what you do, which is help all of us survive."

"I can't. I can't do this, I can't. I just want to help, but I can't... they had a kid, and I couldn't- I can't..."

Gregory grit his teeth again, suddenly realizing he was in waters too deep and not getting his bearings as soon as he saw the man starting to shake and his breathing hindering to the point of physical struggle. He managed to push the refilled cup into Jesus's hands and guided it to his mouth before the man had a full freaking panic attack. He wanted to tell him to stop putting a damn tantrum, but by some divine intervention, he didn't.

He was firmly convinced of his skills in this, but he also knew how Jesus wasn't as persuadable as Gregory would hope. However, in this current situation, he had all the reasons to be convincing if he played his cards right and push the man back to his tracks.

"Listen. I need you here." It was the truth, as annoying as it might be, and one he knew the man needed to hear. "These people like you, Jesus. They want you to be alright. We all count on you to be here for us because you are _important_  to us. To our community. And you have to accept that."

"No. No, I can't-"

"Yes. You're gonna come with me and take a goddamn shower. I'll ask Berenice to do something about the mess you've made in here."

"...Bertie."

Gregory ignored him. "And you're gonna sleep. You need to sleep and tomorrow we'll talk more. You hear me?  _Now._ "

Jesus didn't move. So Gregory stepped and opened the door, calling for the eavesdroppers to come help.

The man's misfortune was actually a blessing. If not for anything else, it helped unite the Hilltop even more. Gregory was proud of his work.

.

to be continued

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter fueled by bad stuff. My sundays seem to be fucking going sour and I'm not liking it. Thankfully this fic won't last until the next one. But that's a bit of a detour to my usual author notes and I've been refraining myself from doing it in almost in all of them, so let's return back to the chapter.
> 
> There's no bloody Jesus in the entirety of his time in TWD. Which is a shame. Since they killed him off, I at least hoped to see him as a zombie, but we didn't get that either. So I endulge myself further and write a very bloody and fragile Jesus.
> 
> This chapter is quite long, and although I was particularly looking forward to write it when I planned it, I'm not too confident now. I wanted to show that there was also a bit of a positive side to Gregory and Jesus's relunctant partnership, a poor excuse for a friendship in some moments, and have Jesus snap a bit at Gregory's general bullshit before Alexandria and Maggie ever came to the picture. I think I should have handled the panic attack better, but I didn't want to get one myself lol. Maybe I'll change it in the future who knows.
> 
> I forgot to thank the kudos left by gayliensav and by the two anonymous people.


	8. Communities

"I don't like that guy," Gregory complained with a groan. Paul sighed and thought to himself that Richard probably disliked Greory more, so the two men had at least found an understanding there. "These Kingdom people are freaks, all of them. And not trustworthy, I tell you."

"Why would you even think that?" he asked, forcing down the exasperation after trying to keep his concerns in check for pretty much the entirety of the meeting, balancing Gregory's words and expressions. The effort had left him feeling phyically tired. "What do you have to complain about? When have they ever showed a sign of not holding up to our exchanges?"

"All this time sharing our stuff with them, and they never brought up they're also giving it to the Saviors!"

"We didn't say anything, either, for just as long as they didn't. Or do you forget you're the one who didn't want to-"

"That's not the point," Gregory interrupted, moving uncomfortably for being called out. He had done the same with some of Richard's comments. "We're giving them things so they can give to the Saviors!"

"Just as they've done with us. Look, their people don't know about the deal. They trusted _me_  with the truth because they trust  _us_  and they understand our struggle. You can't accuse someone of-"

"Then it shows how _not_  trustworthy they are, not even trusting their own-"

"Please, stop trying to find more reasons to just complain about them."

Gregory eyed him with offence in every single line of his face.

"You're acting up as if I'm the bad guy here! That Zazel guy-"

"Ezekiel," Paul corrected for the nth time.

"What's wrong with you, Jesus? I never understand who're standing for," Gregory accused him, narrowing his gaze before widening his eyes. "You like these freaks so much, you can always go back with them. You'd fit right in after all, wouldn't you? And you already have your friend there after all, don't you?"

Paul breathed out and rubbed his nose. Gregory hadn't lost the opportunity to make a comment during the meeting about  _'Jesus's friend not coming this time', 'preferring the comfort of other places',_ and Richard caught Paul's eye roll, looking even more displeased at Gregory from there on out.

"Richard is right when he says it's just polite to meet-"

"He can come meet me here."

"-but I know you won't," Paul completed his sentence, sighing. All things considered, the two leaders meeting really was  _not_  the best thing. Ezekiel didn't have too much of a nice picture of Gregory already, which was understandable, and Gregory would hardly help improve it for himself. And at least so far Gregory had had the decency (or self preservation, most likely) to keep from voicing some of his harsher and more heartfelt views on the Kingdom and its ruler. No one likes to be insulted, but the Kingdom people were particularly protective of their King.

"Why do I have to bother anyway?" Gregory asked. "Say it's all like you think it is, and they're all trustworthy and like our arrangement; then you and some else keep dealing with it. Why should I bother? I have the Saviors to worry about."

Paul didn't even pretend to be too impressed, which probably didn't help his case.

For the next handful of weeks, things didn't go as well as they could have. It was not like they were doing bad at all with their crops, and they found a couple of new people for their community, but the Saviors started to demand more, like any shark would. Paul saw how the Saviors's share started to look too slim, and he spent more time outside, as did several groups. They couldn't ask more of the Kingdom, not with their agreed exchange and without it having improved during that last meeting. Not to mention the Saviors' demands probably extended to the other community too.

He managed to return to the Hilltop with some decent stuff, but scavanging started to demand for him to move further away. After a long round without finding anything, he was rummaging through a gas station when he heard sounds coming from outside. He stopped, listening closely and quickly figuring out it was a car, and it wasn't moving past but parking by the front. The occupants, two men, weren't particularly quiet, so they gave plenty of time and cover for Paul to get a good look at them, the guns they carried (likely empty, but still), and most of all to the truck they had with them. It was hard to tell if the men were Saviors or not, but so far that group didn't seem to wander to this side as their outpost was on the opposite direction. These two didn't look like good news, but they appeared to be alone. It'd be easy to take them out if need be, so long as those guns weren't loaded.

It'd be easier and safer to just try to distract them. He took note of which one of them had the keys and quickly made up an improvised little set up. He readjusted the scarf over his nose and smiled despite himself, thinking of all the different situations his pickpocket days had got him in the past.

This one was quite a new and big one.

.

to be continued

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Alexandria.
> 
> I think this will have 11 chapters instead of 10, because I figured there's stuff about Gregory's and Jesus's relationship that needs addressing and it otherwise wouldn't. Let's see. (And this'll all extend past the next sunday it seems.) And I cannot not give another mention to randomcat23 for the awesome and kind reviews.


	9. Little traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place on season 7 episode 8, after Jesus returns with Daryl to the Hilltop and before Rick and the others arrive the next day to have the conversation we see on episode 9. May extend a bit to episode 14.

 

By the look of Jesus's face, it was clear he knew exactly why Gregory had called him, and knew  _what_  he had done wrong. But still, knowing hadn't been enough to stop him from doing it.

"Who's that guy you brought in now?"

"I asked if we could talk later. Just a couple of-"

"No!" Gregory shouted, but Jesus just breathed in and averted his eyes. "You're packing up stray dogs here,  _dangerous_  dogs for us, and you want me to give you a little time before you came talking to me about how you're trying to get us all killed?!"

"Can you trust me?"

"Not when you're failing me constantly like this," Gregory spat back. "You've done something. I don't see you since yesterday right after the Saviors left, and you come back with that animal there? I don't even wanna know what you've been doing because it'll just put me in more danger."

"He's-"

"I told you, I don't wanna know!"

"Gregory, can you please let me speak?"

"I want him out," Gregory demanded firmly instead. Jesus opened his mouth but Gregory repeated harshly: "I want him out, Jesus! None of them should be here, that pregnant woman should be  _away from here_  yesterday, didn't you see the Saviors  _here_ , in the Barrington House? They'll kill  _all of us_ , and I sure as hell am not dying because you're being selfish!"

"Daryl's staying for as long as he needs, just like Maggie and Sasha and Enid are," Jesus insisted, and Gregory just wanted to physically shake him so he'd stop putting up a tantrum like a damn child.

"I make the rules here, Jesus! What, is he gonna sleep in your trailer as well now? Or are you gonna kick out the handful of girls you have there so you can have some time alone?"

"Gregory!" the man shouted back at him, making the older man straighten his posture sternly just about the second the office door opened and Jesus's fangroup entered.

Just what he needed. The man groaned loudly.

"Oh sure. Ladies, do join us. "

"We figured you'd need some help here," Margaret said, piercing eyes glued on Gregory together with the other woman and the teenager.

"You know what, I can't reason with you people. You just think this is a refugee camp and you don't understand how selfish you all are for even being here," he toned himself down. It was always hard to deal with a lot of people at the same time, specially adding that Jesus was clearly turning against him.

"You're complaining about Daryl now, too?" the other woman demanded. "Do you know what they've done to him? Do you realize there are people you can actively help here-"

"I don't care!" Gregory felt like he was repeating himself over and over. "Honey, what they did to your friend, they'll do to us if they find him here!"

Gregory decided to just ignore the black woman what's-her-face as she tried to go on about and return to the real problem here, Jesus, who had just crossed his arms in front of his chest looking displeased.

"We can't fight the Saviors,  _they_  can't fight the Saviors, we need to protect ourselves, and I sure as hell am not gonna end in a ditch with my skull bashed open like their people did!"

Margaret seemed about to go for a second punch (damn the pregnant woman could throw a swing) and Jesus stepped up at that.

"Daryl's staying here. We're not turning away from people who need us, Gregory."

"Why don't you understand you don't get to decide, Jesus?"

"I have decided. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Gregory grit his teeth and shook his head in disbelief. Little traitor. Choosing a band of outsiders over him, over the Hilltop.

These people were dangerous. They were dangerous for everyone. When the rest of Rich's people came the next day like they owned the damn place, demands and threats with them, Gregory knew he was right being worried about the whole thing ecloding right under his nose. They wouldn't stop, they'd drag everyone down and drag Gregory with them. Worst yet, they could try to remove him from the picture altogether. They had Jesus on their side, and turned the Hilltop canon fodder people against him too; what'd take for them to try to take the leash from Gregory's hands? They were effectively doing it already!

Gregory started to put some serious thought into the whole thing, and it all just became perfectly clear: Jesus was against him. So, there was only one thing to be done. The little man didn't seem to note how  _he_  was the perfect reason why plausible deniability would be Gregory's sure and safe getaway from the clusterfuck they were all trying to build. If it came to that, then Gregory would play the safest and best card he could, which would be to hand all of them to the Saviors and claim his right hand man had orchestrated the whole thing. Unbeknown to Gregory. Plausible deniability. It'd be all on Jesus, and rightfully so.

.

to be continued

.


	10. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after season 8 episode 6.

 

Ever since Gregory had been locked with the Saviors, Paul had an added reason to just want this whole thing solved quickly. He could deal with sneers or insults easily, but Gregory was a special kind of complicated.

"Jesus, have you talked with Maggie yet?" he said first thing each time. Paul couldn't even try to reply before he'd continue: "Jesus, please, I can't stay here with these people, these  _monsters_. Please, you have to get me out of here!"

One of the Saviors scoffed, a cocky grin on his face.

"We sure as fuck can't be with this little shit either. I mean, this is torture right here. You can hang us already."

Paul continued distributing the day's meal. The younger Savior that had talked with him earlier, Alden, was eyeing the the cocky Savior attentively, while the long haired man was clearly having his fun with Gregory's repeated words.

"Jesus, you're a good man. You've always been, right from that first time, you've been my right hand man this whole time since the very beginning..."

"Gregory..."

"Please, Jesus," his voice dropped to pleading immediately, hands grabbing at the post and barely missing the barbed wire. "You know me, and you barely know that woman. Who's had your back this whole time? You barely know her! I mean, Maggie means well, but she's wrong and you know it. You-"

"No, Gregory, she's not."

"I know I have my flaws," he admited on the verge of tears, "but I try. I try to be better and to do the best for all of us, Jesus, for all of us! I didn't want to go to these animals, these killers, but I had to go, I had to be a leader! I had to get us a chance..."

"For fuck's sake man," another Savior groaned, even if he was smilling considerably. The long haired Savior joined with him like two teenagers picking on a younger one.

"You're gonna hang with the rest of us, Gregory," he mocked, cackling at his own pun. "Get it? Hang around until you hang too."

Gregory started to cry, waving his head helplessly and repeating the same pleas like a prayer.

"No one's hanging anyone," Paul repeated soundly, hoping it'd set the subject for good, but he knew those handful of Saviors wouldn't let it go for as long as they could mess with Gregory.

"They don't have the backbone to do it," another one said; Dean, the one that had put a gun to Paul's head. He was smiling widely as Paul turned his eyes to him. "Don't worry about it, Gregory. Your pretty boy didn't kill me, he's never gonna kill you."

"He  _is_  pretty. He's prettier than me, motherfucker has better hair."

"He really has."

"What, you grabbed him by the hair?"

"No, I just rubbed my face all over it, got to really take in his scent, you know? Wonderful smell that was, huh?"

"You're fucking sick, Dean."

"Right, Jesus? Next time I grab you it won't be like this one. I can't wait."

" _I'm_  the one that's gonna kill him. But I may kill you first, Gregory."

"Will you two stop that already?" Alden yelled. The two Saviors just scoffed loudly.

"You see the kind of people you're forcing me to be locked up with?" Gregory cried while the Saviors continued their fun in the back. "Paul, for the love of God, please, take me out of here, make Maggie take me out of here! You're good at making people do things."

"You and I both know what you did, and most of all, why," Paul replied. "You-"

"I didn't threaten you, Jesus!" Gregory interrupted, twisting his words to what he wanted. "What I said, in the Hilltop, it was just a joke!"

"Gregory, don't."

"You can't be mad at me for that! I didn't threaten you, you got it all wrong! You can't be mad for-"

"I'm not," Paul replied, and it really was true. He had learned not to expect much from Gregory when it came to consideration for him. "You're not here because of what you said to me."

"With Negan, it was all-"

Paul handed the last portion and turned around.

"Negan made me do it, Jesus! You know me, you know me!" Gregory still cried. "I'd never say any of that! You can't leave me here! Please, Paul, you know me!"

"I do." he replied. "Now try to prove me wrong, Gregory."

Paul continued walking, leaving behind the fading whimpers and cries. He breathed in and out, rubbing his face to try to clear some of the frustration away. He couldn't wait for this war to be over, for this whole thing to end, for Maggie to have peace and for Gregory to start to actually change.

Otherwise, he wouldn't know what to do.

.

to be continued

.


	11. Forgiveness is not a choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place some time before the beginning of season 9.

"You've done a lot for us, Gregory," the old man said, bowing his head as if he was apologizing. He damn well should be, if he had voted for that blasted woman. "But so has Maggie. It's time to give her a chance."

"I'd have given her a chance by my side if she wanted," Gregory replied, bitting down the words he actually wanted to say: that they'd all betrayed him, all of them, ungrateful lot. That Maggie was a snake in the garden, whispering to the idiots what they wanted to hear. Some chick with pretty eyes and a bun in the oven comes along, does a couple of risky things that cost people's lives, acts like she owns the place, and everyone just flocks behind her like a damn gang of brainless sheep. That none of them had any consideration for the work that had been done before she even had anything to do with the Hilltop. "But I understand. New blood is needed from time to time. It's refreshing and invigorating for a community."

"I'm glad you thought of ellections, Gregory," the old woman, Tammy Rose, said. "It shows you thought of your people enough to give us the choice."

Gregory pressed his lips together and nodded, his breathing sharp through his nose.

"Of course, Tammy Rose. I always did the best for all of us, as you all know."

The woman scowled and pressed her lips as well, bitting down words of her own. Gregory straightened his posture.

"It was a fair ellection. I can only wish Maggie the best... that she keeps doing her best. I'll never abandon the Hilltop or her. We have to live with things as they are, and count our blessings. Maggie has done a lot, and has been fair with all of us... with me. I can only hope she'll keep doing that."

The couple left with their son. At least they had been considerate enough to come talk with him; most just looked at him from the corner of their eyes, or cackled softly. Gregory didn't want to think of the couple's action as pity, though. They had all made a mistake, idiots, all of them. It was hard not to feel angry when he'd try so hard... when he'd done so much for all of them, and they'd all just turn his back on him.

Gregory waved his head and turned around. As he did, he noticed someone else approaching him. He halted, a twinge of anger in his chest over relief or humbleness as Jesus-  _no, Paul_ , stepped closer.

"Jesus," he said nevertheless. It sounded childish, wrong, a clear reminder that the man was no friend of his. But if he voiced his anger and his offence,  _Gregory_  would be the one considered to be wrong again, the unfair and the fake one.  _They're all wrong, all of them_. They were all the childish ones, not him. "Congratulations. Maggie's finally got the place she's been having for a while. But it was a fair ellection. It's good it happened, and that it resulted in this."

Paul stopped and nodded.

"I heard you talking with Tammy and Earl. I know this is hard for you."

"No, it's-"

"Gregory. I know you."

The older man breathed out, meeting Paul's eyes. Both of them stood in silence for a handful of seconds. Gregory tried to smile, shake it all off, but instead he found himself pressing his lips again, all that bubbling in and forcing him to push it all down again.

Okay, Paul was right. Gregory considered his previous thoughts, the sting of offence, the grip of rage in his gut. He felt it all wanting to rip him apart.

"Of course it is," he admitted. It didn't help as much as he'd expected. Not as much as winning the ellection would have helped. "I wouldn't have set up ellections if I didn't think I could win, and if I didn't think I deserved to win. No one likes to lose."

Paul straightened his pose too, and for the longest time, Gregory felt he actually had the man's attention, so he grabbed it and continued.

"I did a lot for us, Jesus. I made mistakes, but so has Maggie. The war was terrible... but we've won. With... her guidance. I see that the people are on her side. I may not like it, but I know how to lose, I tell you. I know how to admit I've been defeated. I'll let Maggie do things her way and not bother her."

Paul remained in silence with his arms crossed in front of his chest for a moment after Gregory finished talking. Gregory felt his suddenly-found resolve flinch somewhat, so he pushed his hands to his hips, trying to physically reassert himself and his words. The man just kept looking at him with those piercing blue eyes.

"I'm relieved to hear that," he said eventually, making Gregory scoff.

"Relieved?"

"Yes," Paul confirmed. "I feared how things would be otherwise. We both know there's been problems.  _Serious_  problems."

Gregory wanted to try to wave it off or try to smile again, but the seriousness of Paul's expression made him reconsider it. He had once tried to persuade the man to do his bidding by reminding him how well Paul knew Gregory. He might not want to admit it at all, but it  _was_  the truth. And right now, he did not have the strength to deny the fact, the truth of Paul's words.

"I see you're trying. Maggie's trying too. I sincerely hope both of you will continue."

Gregory ended up nodding, and their conversation was left there.

However, there's so much trying could do.

Forgiveness is not something you choose. You can try, you can force it, but it just doesn't work that way. He couldn't look at Maggie without feeling disdain for the woman, starting from that very first time when she'd talk back at him with disgust and superiority before their quarrel with the Saviors ever began. Looking at the baby on her arms didn't provoke an ounce of compassion, it just reminded him how her people had caused the whole thing to begin with. It even irked him that she might have used that card somehow to help her favour, being a poor widow single mother in this harsh world.

And he couldn't look at Paul without feeling betrayed. Thinking about all he had done for the man, all the times he had helped Paul dealing with his shitty life, trying to put him into use for the community, the few times where he had actually been useful on his own; everything that was completely scattered aside like it was nothing. The both of them, Maggie and Paul, and then everyone else, just went about with their lives as if everything was right in their way of doing things, as if they didn't see how it was all wrong, how everything was worst.

Ungrateful, all of them.

.

to be continued

.


	12. Betrayer

This was it. This was the last straw.

The fact he didn't doubt that it had happened, not even for a second, should be the final proof he needed; this was it. Thinking back on the exchange they had earlier that night didn't make things better; the hypocracy and the sheer cold blooded thinking behind it only proved it further. There's nothing else to be done, no turning back. Some things are irreversible.

He couldn't anymore.

Paul climbed down the steps and the voice echoing below ceased immediately, and he turned to the cell on the left to find Gregory standing near the bars, his hands on his hips and his posture the same usual poor attempt of asserting himself over the rest. He seemed surprised, maybe expecting someone else, but then his face changed into a flash of displeasure before he put on the expected expression of concern, of regret he never bothered to truly feel.

"Jesus. Take me out. I-"

"Don't."

Gregory groaned immediately. "Oh of course you had to go to-"

"I said don't!" Paul snapped, making Gregory flinch back, not unlike what happened before whenever anyone stood up at him, but this time it was too much, and the man had to understand that. "Don't act like we're all idiots, Gregory, for once in your fucking life, just don't."

"Of course you wouldn't believe me! You don't even want to hear me out, you're already attacking-"

"Because I  _know you_ , Gregory! I wanted to believe you, I swear I did, but what you did is beyond anything I can use to rationalize you, to justify or to excuse you. I can't anymore, Gregory. I can't. I'm done. You've done..."

"Jesus..." Earl spoke from the opposite cell. Whatever the man wanted to say, to apologize or to defend Gregory, Paul didn't let the him continue. Not this time.

"Do you realize what you've done? Do you understand?"

"Earl did it! Whatever you've been told-"

"Gregory, stop. Don't... please, don't do this. Not now, not to me. I can't."

"Jesus - P-Paul, this is wrong, you got this wrong. She attacked _me_! She's crazy, she's- Earl's grieving, the poor man, and she  _thinks_  I did it, she attacked me!"

"You tried to  _kill_  Maggie, Gregory!"

"You believe her?! She attacked  _me!_ It was self defence! Earl's the one that attacked her! You don't believe-"

"No, Gregory, I don't believe you!" Paul threw back at the man. He couldn't handle this, not this again. "Don't try to twist everything around like you've always done, don't try to walk yourself out of this again! It's too much, Gregory. We've tried, I tried, I thought it had worked, but you don't change. Why..."

He grit his teeth in frustration, rubbing at his face, feeling like pulling at his hair, anything that would help, but this was too real already. The pain in his throat, tearing away at him, was hurting him too much. He was responsible somehow, because  _how_  could this happen? How could people act like this, when they'd been given all the opportunities they could? How could someone be so selfish to want to kill another person, for the sole purpose of making their lives easier? The world used to be like that before it ended; in many ways, the new world had still been too much like that, but not the world they were trying so hard to build now. Not in the world where they'd give people the chance to change.

And Gregory still didn't change. He didn't try, he didn't want to. How could Paul have hoped someone like that would ever change? If Maggie had died, how would _Paul_  have been able to live with himself?

"I would have killed you," he muttered despite himself, raising his eyes to Gregory. "I would have killed you if you had killed Maggie."

"You're mad at _me_? Me?! All I ever did-!"

"All you ever did was look after yourself! You don't care what happens as long as you get power! Why can't you understand that, Gregory? Why can't you understand that it doesn't work anymore, that you can't trick people anymore? Why can't you understand how _vile_  you were, taking advantage of the pain of a parent to do your dirty work? Do you realize what you did to this man? The consequences to his life?"

"I didn't-"

"Of course you didn't think about it! You never do! You only care for yourself."

"Jesus... Jesus, it was me. I did it," Earl tried again. Gregory bloated up in confidence from the poor man's regret, the pain of grief. "I..."

"Earl, don't," Paul interrupted him again. "Maggie will decide your case. You attacked an unharmed woman and her baby. There will be consequences. But what you did is different. You are not him. Not even close. You don't lie, you don't deny your actions, you don't try to throw your guilt to someone else like a damn child. Those are all things Gregory has never stopped doing."

The way Gregory's face contorted, something he would consider almost comical before but now was simply offensive, told him he wanted to scream, to complain, to throw every single excuse he could think of, but he never had the strength to do it in front of someone who stood the slightest ground, who called him out as the coward he was. He might be unable to feel empathy for anyone else but himself, but Gregory was impeccable at identifying threats, and the look in Paul's face was too clear.

"Okay, I know, I know. I was stupid," so of course he changed his game, as always. Smooth talking, humiliating himself if need be, all so he could get himself a safe way out. "I'm stupid, I'm an idiot, I wasn't thinking, I-"

"No. Enough."

He couldn't anymore.

"I can't listen to your excuses anymore," Paul continued, to Gregory's shocked and offended expression, his attempt to keep defending himself cut short: "No. It's always the same, Gregory. It's always the same, until we reached this and this time there's no turning back. You tried to kill Maggie."

"Jesus..." he tried. This time, he wasn't even interrupted. His voice dropped and he swallowed hard. "Paul... please. I was wrong. I know, I can see that now."

"No, you can't. You just say what you know people want to hear."

"Then what do you want me to say, Jesus?!"

"Nothing," he admitted, feeling like a weight had crashed over him rather than been removed. "There's nothing you can do anymore. There's nothing, Gregory, and I don't know what to do, because I can't do anything anymore."

Gregory fell silent for a moment. His gaze kept shifting between Paul's eyes, unsure where he should focus, what he was missing, trying to find some endgame from Paul's part, some play he might be trying to pull, but finding nothing, because there was nothing.

"You're not a leader, Gregory. You just want people doing your bidding. You're not even what Negan was. You're just ridiculous and humiliating." Because that's what he was: a ridiculous, weak and scared man that would always try any way he could to save his own skin.

Gregory wouldn't give up. He just couldn't.

"What're you gonna do, huh?" he asked, not as scared as much as he was offended. "What's Maggie gonna do?"

"I don't know," Paul admitted. But he imagined, and honestly... he didn't know what else could be done. Paul waved his head, trying to breathe, trying to think. "I've had people try to kill me and I didn't kill them. I don't know if I was wrong or not, but I had to stand by what I believed."

"Oh, you mean like the Saviors?" Gregory asked with disdain, scoffing in disbelief. He was the one in disbelief, like _he_  was the one that had not done anything wrong.

"Yes, exactly," Paul replied without hesitation. "They-"

"You're all wrong! I didn't do anything to Maggie, she tried to kill me! You never believed me, Jesus, you've betrayed me every single time you could so you could just wiggle your tail to the next-"

"Gregory, please." Both men turned their heads to Earl, even though none of them could actually see him in his cell. The man's voice was exhausted. "Gregory said stuff he shouldn't. He may have hoped for something to happen... but I'm at fault, Jesus, I did it. I... I tried to hurt Maggie."

"You hear the man?!" Gregory spat out, eyes wide and his veins popping out. "You see?! I'm innocent! Maggie's crazy! She thinks I did it! I-"

"You did! For once, Gregory, for _once_  in your fucking life, don't act like you're smarter than the rest of us. You're not."

"How dare you..." the man choked on his spit, gritting his teeth. "You... you never believed me. You... Maggie  _stole_  everything from me! She stole from me and you helped her! She's an usurper, she took everything I did and she claimed it as hers!"

"No, Gregory, she didn't. You didn't do anything. The people did.  _Everyone_  did. And you could never see that."

"Where'd you all be without me?! I took Earl and Tammy Rose and their boy in! I took  _you_  in! I kept the Saviors away from us for as long as Maggie was not around! She's at fault for all of this! The Hilltop is mine! I brought us to where we are!  _I did!_ "

Paul flinched and had to avert his face away, pressing his lips tight at hearing what he knew, what he had always known but never imagined or wished would be confirmed this way.

"This is over, Gregory. There's nothing else I can do."

"Of course there is, you can let me go and we can send Maggie away for slander, for attempting against my life!"

"Gregory," the old man said from the other cell. "Jesus is right. We have to face what we've done."

"No!" Gregory shot through the bars, grabbing at them and knuckles turning white. "Shut up, you old fool! What are you gonna do?! Are you gonna exile me, send me away to die outside? You wouldn't!"

Paul waved his head. He still didn't know what to do.

Or rather, he did.

"I wouldn't want to," he whispered. "But Maggie is not me."

Gregory didn't seem impressed.

"What's Maggie gonna do, Jesus? What can she do?"

"Whatever she does, I'm not stopping her."

"You wouldn't," Gregory accused. "You know I'm right."

"She's the leader of Hilltop. I'm not. I have to respect her decision."

Paul turned around, leaving the man behind and ignoring the repeated words that started echoing even before he got to the steps. He continued, blocking them all out. It was too much. He hadn't felt this exhausted, this drained out, in a long time; because this time, he couldn't do anything to help. All his attempts had failed. There was nothing else he could do, only leave everything to happen as it had to. And he knew that this time, there'd be no turning back.

.

.

the end

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an unexpectedly amusing fic to write. It might have been fueled by a couple of bad stuff from real life, but that's actually a good thing in the end. I never felt extremely stressed to write, I never fully struggled with a scene, it was just a thoroughly flowed and pleasant writing experience. I don't write many multi-chaptered fics, and certainly none of them had this quick result.  
> The hardest chapter might have been this one, really.
> 
> All my music choices were fluid too, with System of a Down giving place to Serj Tankian and Daron Malakian in turns. All very pleasant.
> 
>  
> 
> I've had quite a bit of hits/views in the story on both websites, which is quite nice. Feedback may be understandably sparce, but randomcat23 's continuous and tireless support was particularly encouraging and positive. Thanks a lot :)
> 
> See you around.

**Author's Note:**

> This will have 10 chapters I think. (Edit: nopes, 12) Perspective changes between Gregory and Jesus. I'm particularly eager to write some scenes ahead, but let's see.
> 
> I intend to take like 2/3 days between chapters. But the odds of me actually being able to accomplish my own schedules are very slim.
> 
> Thanks for reading, reviews and corrections to English are encouraged.


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